'He would be,' Minna hastily intervened. 'He's a Southern gentleman.'
'Well, I'm sure you won't have any difficulty making up your own mind, Bruce. For myself, I'd like Prince Henry to enjoy a rare experience, a beautiful double wedding. That accomplished, I feel confident I could take you into the firm. I could make you quite a rich person, young man.'
'In your meat-packing company?' Bruce managed to say.
'As my vice-president.'
'You're most generous, sir,' said Bruce. 'I have only one problem with that.'
'What would that be?' Armbruster wanted to know.
'I'm considering becoming a vegetarian.'
Armbruster was puzzled. 'Vegetarian? I'm not sure…'
'It means abstaining from all animal food,' Minna interjected.
Bruce pressed forward. 'Last night I found Upton Sinclair's The Jungle in Aunt Minna's library. I read it.' Bruce began to recite from the expose of the meat-packing industry. ' "For once started on that journey, the hog never came back;
at the top of the wheel he was shunted off upon a trolley, and went sailing down the room… then dangling by a foot, and kicking in frenzy – and squealing. There were high squeals and low squeals, grunts and wails of agony" as the hog was brutally killed to be converted into pork chops and bacon. That, Mr Armbruster, upset me terribly.'
Armbruster's face had reddened, until he was almost apoplectic. 'Upton Sinclair!' he roared. 'That anarchist trying to destroy the free enterprise system, with his propaganda that some of my workers fell into the sausage machine and came out as sausage links. He's an anarchist, no more.'
Minna tried to soothe him. 'Mr Armbruster, I'd say Upton Sinclair was hardly alone. Vegetarians have ranged from Emanuel Swedenborg to Percy Bysshe Shelley to Count Leo Tolstoi.'
'All anarchists!' Armbruster bellowed. 'I couldn't consider a vegetarian in my company.' He glared at Bruce. 'You can't be serious. Maybe this is an immature eccentricity.'
'Well, maybe,' said Bruce uncertainly.
'I'm sure it is,' insisted Armbruster. 'After dinner, you have a little talk with Judith. She may be able to convince you better than I can. Help you mend the error of your ways. Which reminds me -' Armbruster staggered to his feet. 'Luncheon is served.' He squinted down at Bruce. 'I know that Pearl has prepared a porterhouse steak and a salad. Do you think you can manage that?'
Bruce rose. 'I can say yes to the salad,' he promised. 'I'll decide on the steak when I'm faced with it.'
Rising, Minna told herself that she must restrain her nephew. A vice-presidency in the Armbruster Company was not to be passed up lightly, especially when her brother in Kentucky was facing bankruptcy. Of course, the price for compliance was not only renouncing vegetarianism, but also marrying Judith. Minna decided that she would have to give all of this more thought.
As Armbruster took her arm to lead her into the dining-room, Minna guessed that the entire service would be sterling silver.
In the dining-room, she sighed. Every piece was sterling silver.
That evening in the Everleigh Club, Bruce Lester and Karen Grant sat close together on a sofa.
He had dared to take her hand, and she had not resisted. Bruce continued to recount the adventure at the Arm-brusters'.
'Did you eat the steak?' Karen wanted to know.
'I nibbled at it, so as not to offend him.'
'But bringing up the vegetarianism in the home of a meat-packer,' said Karen. 'Were you serious about that?'
Bruce shrugged. 'I really don't know about becoming a vegetarian, Karen. I do know I wanted to offend Armbruster. He's such a coarse man.'
'How can you resist the offer of a vice-presidency when your father is in such trouble and you need money?'
Bruce scratched his forehead. 'Not easy,' he said. 'On the other hand, I haven't told you the price I was asked to pay to become Armbruster's vice-president.'
'What's that?'
'I'd have to become part of his family. I'd have to marry his daughter Judith.'
Karen studied the man beside her. 'Well, why not do that?'
'For one thing, I don't love her. For another, I care for you. There you have it, Karen. I'm sure of this. I care for you.'
She squeezed his hand tightly. 'And Bruce, I care for you.'
He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. She clung to him, kissing him back.
After they parted briefly, she said, 'That was delicious. But Bruce, you've got to be practical. What are you going to do about money?'
'Tomorrow I'm going to Washington Park to sell Frontier. That should bring enough to keep me afloat.' 'I hope so.' 'Come along with me and we'll see what happens.'
SIX
Arriving at the Washington Street main doorway to City Hall, Harold T. Armbruster checked his watch and noted that he was on time.
Entering the marble lobby, he made for the recently installed elevators, and told the operator inside that he wished to go to Mayor Carter Harrison's office suite on the third floor. After the slow ride up, Armbruster stepped into the corridor and headed for the mayor's office.
In the reception room, he was met by a young man who left him to inform the mayor that Armbruster was present. Moments later, the young man returned to guide him through the empty secretarial office into the mayor's own impressive sanctum.
Mayor Harrison was already on his feet, hand outstretched. Armbruster impatiently shook it.
'You wanted to see me,' Armbruster said.
'Yes, yes, please sit down.'
Armbruster sat on the edge of a chair across from the mayor's desk, as Harrison settled into his own high-backed leather chair. The summons from the mayor had been unexpected, and Armbruster was restless with curiosity.
The mayor shuffled some papers and raised his head. 'It's about the matter of Prince Henry's visit to Chicago.'
'I hoped you'd have some news,' Armbruster said. 'He hasn't changed his itinerary, has he?'
'No, he will be here exactly as scheduled. A morning, an afternoon, an evening, before returning to New York, and to Germany the following day.'
'Well, did you inform him of the wedding and the banquet at my home?'
The mayor nodded. 'Up to a point.'
'What does that mean, Mayor?'
'It means I had to follow protocol,' said Mayor Harrison. 'I worked out a schedule with my staff to cover every hour of the prince's visit to Chicago. It included your son's wedding and the banquet to follow. Then, still observing protocol, as I'd been advised, I sent the schedule to the German ambassador in Washington, D.C. I want you to see the schedule so that you will know that I have faithfully kept my promise to you.'
Harrison half lifted himself and handed a sheet of paper to Armbruster.
The meat-packer studied the official schedule. It read:
OFFICIAL PROGRAMME FOR PRINCE HENRY
6:30 a.m. Arrival at Union Station. 10:30 a.m. Visit to Lincoln Park. 11:oo a.m. Choral festival at First Regiment Armoury. 12:30 p.m. Luncheon at Germania Club. 3:00 p.m. Reception with Mayor Harrison and aldermen at City Hall. 7:00 p.m. Grand Banquet at the residence of Mr and Mrs Harold T. Armbruster, to celebrate the prince's visit, as well as the wedding of Mr Alan Armbruster to Miss Cathleen Lester.
Satisfied, Armbruster returned the schedule to the mayor's desk. 'You have it there, and you put it well,' Armbruster said. 'You haven't told me the prince's response.'
'The very reason I wanted to see you,' said the mayor. 'I have a response of sorts, but it is from the German ambassador, and not from Prince Henry. I want you to read it.'
He handed another sheet of paper over his desk to the meat-packer. Armbruster took it. The sheet of heavier paper with a smooth cottony surface was thicker than the sheet that bore the schedule, and the letterhead was embossed with the address of the German Embassy. Armbruster read it carefully:
Dear Honourable Mayor Carter Harrison,
I am most pleased to have received the programme you outlined for the overnight visit of Princ
e Henry of Prussia to your renowned metropolis.
Of course, Prince Henry will wish to lay a wreath at the foot of the Monument in Lincoln Park. He certainly will be pleased with the luncheon at the Germania Club, aware as he is that the city of Chicago possesses the sixth-largest population of Germans in the entire world.
Regarding the rest of the schedule, including your reception at the City Hall and the banquet to be hosted by the distinguished Mr and Mrs Armbruster, I can only assume that the prince will be honoured and pleased. However, I do not have his official reaction to the plans as it is too soon to have heard from him.
I have forwarded your programme to Berlin via diplomatic pouch, and I expect to have Prince Henry's response soon, certainly before his arrival in Chicago.
I will keep you further informed.
With best wishes,
Sincerely, Hans Schulter Ambassador
Armbruster reread the letter and then, shaking his head, threw it on the mayor's desk. 'It's an acknowledgement, but it doesn't tell us a damn thing.'
'Not yet, perhaps,' said Harrison, trying to pacify Armbruster, 'but it does indicate that the ambassador expects Prince Henry to approve of everything on our programme, including your festivities.'
'You may be right,' said Armbruster, somewhat mollified. 'Still, the prince himself has not yet approved. You must let me know the moment you hear from him. After all, Mrs Armbruster and I have to make special, more elaborate plans for a royal guest.'
Mayor Harrison threw up his hands. 'What can I say, Mr Armbruster? I know only what you know from the ambassador's letter, that he expects to hear from Prince Henry before the prince's arrival in Chicago.'
'That could be cutting it close.'
'I really don't think you have to worry, Mr Armbruster. The prince can only be pleased with your invitation. I feel that you can go ahead and plan accordingly.'
'Fine,' said Armbruster, standing. 'I'll take your word for it and proceed.'
The mayor also rose. 'Are you still expecting to make your request of the prince?'
'My request? Ah, you mean to tell him of my desire to be the next ambassador to Germany?'
'Precisely.'
'I'll be totally honest with you, as I was when I first brought this matter up,' said Armbruster. 'While it will definitely improve my social standing in Chicago to have the prince in my home, it is equally important that he feel obligated to me, his host, and that he find time to speak to me alone.'
'I understand,' said Harrison amiably.
'I want to get him aside. To impress upon him how qualified I am to be ambassador, and to let him know how eager I am to have the post. Obviously, he can't play any decisive part in this except to influence the kaiser, who may then make it known to the White House that I would be most welcome in Berlin. Am I making a mistake in undertaking this?'
'Not at all, not a bit,' said the mayor, seeing Armbruster to the door. 'You do things for people, and then you expect them to do something in return. It is the way of the world.'
'I'm relieved to hear you say so. Thank you very much, and keep in touch with me.' He paused. 'Meanwhile, I wish you luck in your reform campaign. I agree that it is necessary to have Chicago clean as a whistle on the day Prince Henry arrives.'
They were in the stable area of the old Washington Park race track, some distance behind the wooden two-tier grandstand. Bruce Lester and Karen were escorting a horse owner named Robert Clifford to the farthest stall, where Bruce's colt, Frontier, was feeding.
Clifford was the fifth – and last – potential buyer that Bruce was showing his horse to. Of the first four, three had shown no interest and one had offered a meagre $300.
'Here he is, Mr Clifford,' said Bruce, leading the man into the stall. 'A beauty, isn't he?'
Clifford stood away, surveying the horse. 'Rather small for a three-year-old. Is he undernourished?'
'He's well-nourished,' Bruce snapped. 'He's strong.'
Clifford walked around the friendly brown colt, patting his body, then stopped to study his legs.
'Small,' Clifford said again. 'Delicate, I suspect.'
'Strong,' Bruce persisted.
Clifford extracted a card from his pocket and studied it. 'The breeding record doesn't promise too much.'
'His dam showed in the Futurity.'
'A poor third,' said Clifford. 'I don't know. I don't think he'd be much of a horse to run. I might be able to use him for stud. I think I can make you an offer of $500.'
'No more?'
'Not a cent more.'
Karen pulled Bruce aside. 'Don't accept it, Bruce. Someone else will come along.'
Bruce returned to Clifford. 'I don't know. I'd like a little more time to make up my mind.'
'You make up your mind, young man,' Clifford said. 'I'll be leaving Chicago three days after the Derby.'
'I'll give you an answer by then,' Bruce promised.
After Clifford had left, Bruce and Karen remained behind in the stall.
Studying his horse as it munched hay, Bruce said, 'Even if I sold him, the buying price wouldn't go very far. Not enough to restart a stable of my own in Kentucky.'
Karen stared at him. 'Are you saying you'd have to take a job with Armbruster – and what goes with it?'
'I'm not saying anything yet,' Bruce protested. 'I'm only saying I have a father who is an invalid, who is about to lose his home, and I'm the only person who can help him. I'm trying to keep reality in perspective, Karen.'
'What about your sister?' asked Karen. 'She's marrying into the Armbruster family.'
'Impossible,' said Bruce. 'She couldn't ask for money from the Armbrusters. We're supposed to be a well-off Southern family. That's why we're staying with our aunts, so that we'll appear to be more than we are. No, it's all up to me.'
'Well, what are you going to do?' She hesitated. 'Except marry Judith Armbruster.'
Bruce ignored her remark. 'I have two choices for the moment. One is to sell Frontier for what Clifford offered. If I do that I'll have no horse and almost no money. The second is to let Frontier run in the American Derby for the $25,000 purse. I've already had him entered, but he'll be up against big favourites like The Picket and he doesn't stand much of a chance. He doesn't have stamina. He doesn't even have a jockey.'
'Find a jockey,' Karen persisted. 'I see no other choice.'
Bruce sighed. 'I've already tried. The top jockeys are signed for other entries. The rest of them wouldn't ride a long shot without a guaranteed payment and for only a percentage of his winnings.'
Unhappily, Karen turned away from the stall to leave. 'I guess your best bet is still Judith Armbruster.'
Bruce followed her out into the stable area, about to protest, when he was diverted by a red Ford chugging towards them. Edmund was at the wheel with Minna Everleigh, her face covered with a veil, beside him and Dr Herman Holmes in the rear seat.
Minna was waving to them. As the Ford came up to them and stopped, Minna called down, 'Bruce, what are you doing here? We're just having a look around before the Derby. Bruce Lester, meet our family physician, Dr Holmes.' Turning to Holmes, she added, 'Doctor Holmes, meet Karen Grant.'
Karen flushed, and momentarily stammered her acknowledgement.
Dr Holmes touched his derby, smiling. 'I've met Miss Grant. Pleased to know you, Mr Lester.'
Minna was addressing Bruce. 'You haven't told me what you're doing here.'
'Remember, I mentioned I brought my best horse up from Kentucky, a three-year-old named Frontier? I have him stabled here. I've entered him in the American Derby.'
'Wonderful,' said Minna.
'Less than wonderful,' said Bruce. 'I entered him, but I haven't got a jockey – I mean, one who'll ride for only a percentage of the purse.'
Minna stared at Bruce. 'You're looking for a jockey to ride Frontier?'
'Exactly.'
'Have you ever heard of a Garrison finish?'
'Of course. When a horse comes from behind to win.'
; 'Do you know how the expression Garrison finish came into being?'
'No.'
'About ten years ago,' said Minna, 'there was a jockey named Ed 'Snapper' Garrison. In the Suburban Handicap at Belmont Park, Garrison was riding dead last rounding into the stretch. Then he started a whiplashing run through the
stretch, coming from last to first to win by a head. That was a typically Garrison finish.' She paused. 'Well, Ed 'Snapper' Garrison is here in Washington Park today. Have you tried him?'
'Tried him?'
'To be your jockey,' said Minna, rising. 'Edmund, will you help me down?'
On the ground alongside her nephew, Minna adjusted her veil and said, 'Let me introduce you.' She grabbed Bruce by the arm. 'Come along. I just saw Snapper playing chess with a stablehand a few stalls back. He's an old friend. I want you to meet him.'
Briskly, Minna led Bruce away, while Karen trailed behind.
As they approached the two men playing chess, Minna called out and Snapper Garrison jumped to his feet, abandoning the chessboard.
'Wait here a moment,' Minna said to Bruce.
She ran ahead to meet Garrison. He peered up at her, puzzled, until she held aside her veil.
'Why, it's you, Minna -'
'Shhh,' whispered Minna, 'listen. I want you to meet my nephew from Kentucky. He doesn't know what the Everleigh Club actually is and I don't want him to know. Don't mention it. And, Snapper, he thinks my name is Minna Lester.'
'Whatever you say, Minna.'
'Let me bring him over.'
Minna went back to Bruce and Karen, and guided them towards the jockey.
Bruce found himself confronting a very abbreviated, middle-aged man, with the wizened face of a small monkey. He greeted Karen with a grin, and was courteous in a brisk way.
'Snapper, do you have a mount for the Derby?' Minna inquired.
'You know I don't,' said Garrison. 'Except for workouts, I don't ride anymore. Over the hill, I'm told. Too old.'
'You look spry enough to me,' Minna said.
'Oh, I am,' Garrison assured her. 'I've never been in better shape. But nobody else here thinks so.'
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